


Heliocentric

by orphan_account



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Drabble Collection, Fluff, Gen, M/M, One Shot Collection, Sexually fluid queer platonic partners, Slice of Life, Turkfic, basically I decided to stop taking this seriously, have all my self indulgence, sorry for the tags wranglers...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-16
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-29 14:03:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1006298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of mostly fluffy Reno/Rude oneshots. Though, more UST and Romantic friendship than actual coupley-ness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea weeks ago and it just would not leave me alone.

It's Saturday, 21:00. The first Saturday since Frejya met him at the tree in the park, instead of Chelsea. 

This time last week they were stumbling into her flat on the wake of a concert, and a wine bar. They both like classical music, and there had been pianos playing in the sector concert hall. Her lips and teeth were tinted wine purple when she took his hand and led him to her Piano, wanted to show off that she could play a little too, wanted to teach him the basics. 

This time the week before that they'd still been in bed where they'd fallen Friday night, having left only for necessities like food. 

This Saturday, at 21:00, he was spending alone in his quarters, on the couch, reading. Trying to read. He read a paragraph, or two, then read them again because the words didn't stick the first time. He makes it through a few pages, he thinks, before realizing again that he has no idea how the protagonist has gotten from Nibelheim to Kalm. He is about to flip back and start again when his door buzzes. Then buzzes again when three seconds later it hasn't been opened. 

“Hey Rude! It's me, let me in, yo!” He carefully marks his page and sets the book down, knowing that pretending he isn't home is probably a hopeless endeavor. Besides, if he's honest, he would like the company. 

Reno is standing in his doorway, fidgeting, holding a case of beer and a tupperware of what Rude recognizes as home-made five layer dip, and a handful of suspiciously unmarked DVDs. He beams disarmingly when the door opens, brushing past Rude and already talking before he can be either accepted or dismissed. His jacket smells like alcohol as he passes, but he doesn't seem drunk.

“Hah! I knew you'd be in. You been a real downer since Tuesday man. Not that I'm blamin' you any.” 

“What are you doing here?” It's an honest question. By all rights Reno should be just now starting to think of leaving the second bar of the night in favor of some coffee and the first club.  
“Like I said, you been a real downer lately. Came to cheer you up.” Rude picks up the dip and the beer from where they've been just left on the floor beside Reno as he messes with Rude's television. 

“With what, exactly?” Reno twists around to face Rude, still smiling goofily and holds up the unmarked cases.

“Lemon Whores, May the Foreskin be With you, and the time honored classic of pornographic hilarity: Deep Throat. Which one do you wanna watch first? Gotta say, I recommend saving Deep Throat for a few more drinks.” For an uncomfortably long time, neither of them moves.

“... I am not watching porn with you.”

“'Course not, you're watching terrible porn with me. Completely different.”

“How?”

“Because partner, it's funny, completely un-erotic, and there is nothing gonna pick you up faster than a reminder of exactly what you aren't missing.” Rude crosses his arms, and raises an eyebrow. 

“What I won't be missing?”

“Yeah. Sex is fun and all, but when you think about it, it's pretty ridiculous. Awkward as shit too.” Rude is unmoved. “Oh you doubt now, but you'll see. It'll be fun, yo.” 

“...”

“Oh come on!”

“...”

“Please?”

“...”

To Rude's genuine surprise, Reno deflates. He ejects the disk from the DVD player, and starts gathering them up. Rude isn't sure, but he thinks he may actually be pouting a little. 

“Okay, okay. If you really don't want to we won't. I ain't gonna make you do nothin', yo.” Rude watches him packing up, shoulders down, movements slow, and sighs. 

“Fine.”

“Huh?”

“Fine, I'll have a few beers and watch the damn porn.”

“Fuck, yeah! Don't worry, you won't regret it.”

And he's right, Rude doesn't regret it. The beer is mass produced light lager. Not his taste, but since Reno knows nothing about beer, actively dislikes it even, he's grateful it's here at all rather than a bottle of liquor. The dip is delicious, as always. And somewhere, surprisingly quickly between the lemons in leotards and the terrible acting and the light saber dildos and the rockets-in-place-of-cum-shots, and Reno's constant, giggling commentary, he is, in fact laughing his ass off. 

Reno's feet have found their way into Rude's lap, which isn't unusual. A year or two ago he might have thought so, but by now he's used to Reno being touchy, and flirty. He is with everyone. They keep having to pause, just to talk, to elaborate on a point or a joke. Rude realizes he's missed just hanging out with the kid. He hasn't almost since he started seeing Chelsea.  
“At least you know it ain't you.”

“Hm?”

“Your girlfriend. Look I'm sorry. It fuckin' sucks, yo. The whole thing. But at least you know it's not that she didn't like you.”

“Sure.” Rude isn't actually sure that that's better. Reno stretches, long and languid, crosses his ankles over Rude's thighs, leans back with his hands behind his head. 

“I mean seriously, what's not to like?” he continues. “You dress sharp as fuck. You always got this cool aura of no bullshit, all business. Into all this sophisticated shit with your books and your music. Don't mean you ain't still a bad-ass though,' cause the only bigger bad-ass n' you is me. Not to mention you got that tall dark and fucking gorgeous thing going on.” He trails off, picks a beer can off the floor, pops the top.

And Rude does catch himself looking, the way his head tilts back and back, and his adams apple moves while he chugs the whole thing down, pulling a face when he's finished it. “Beer. I just don't understand. My point is, partner. Other fish, right. You got no lack of interested parties just for the asking, I'd bet about anything.” 

“Sure.” Rude shrugs, a little foggy now, after four beers, and a little confused. 

They don't say much, for a long while after that. It isn't uncomfortable. At around 24:00, Rude glances over at his partner, and realizes he's fallen asleep, sprawled out on the couch. As usual, he hasn't done up his shirt, even most of the way, the light from the T.V plays blue across the exposed skin at his throat, and collarbones. And it's...nice. The weight of Reno's limbs on him, and the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. He shakes the thought away lightly. He's been lonely the last several days, and he's definitely starting on drunk. 

Carefully, he dislodges himself, switches off the television, and goes to find a spare blanket.


	2. Weather

Rude knows that Reno has been with the Turks for about a year by the time they're assigned together, has heard the other Turks tell stories, has even a bit of respect for the spitfire rookie's reputation. It takes less than a month working side by side for him to completely forget that Reno is six years his junior, not yet even come nineteen. Still just a kid, really. 

He's reminded the first time that Reno see's snow.

They're in Junon in midwinter. Rumor has it there's a branch of the King's Club operating here. As much a Reno jokes that it sounds like some kind of cross-dressers networking ring, where there are Kings Clubs there are SOLDIER candidates. When they arrive winter is just a biting wind crashing with the waves against the shore, and a low gray sky. They arrive later in the day than they'd anticipated. Work will have to wait until morning.

The snow blows in overnight. Rude wakes to flurries and drifts close to two feet deep. He likes snow, theoretically, if he doesn't have to interact with it much. His one true weakness is that he does, indeed, have little tolerance for cold. But snow or not work calls, and by all accounts the Kings Clubs participants should all be at the docks by ten this morning. So he dresses. Pulls on his regular dress suit and gloves, and extra socks and a scarf, just to be safe. He can hear Reno stumbling around in the room next to his as he dresses, so he assumes that when he opens the door to leave his partner is right behind him. 

He does not expect the red and white blur the rushes past him with a delighted yelp, crashing into the fresh drift immediately in front of the door. He stares in shock, and then amusement at the sight of Reno rolling around in the snow in just his underwear. He stands grinning manically. Then throws himself down again, making patterns in the snow. The whole episode lasts about a minute and a half, then Reno is walking briskly back to the doorway and standing in front of him, shivering violently and still grinning like an 8 year old, not an 18 year old back from playing in the snow. 

“Ramuh kid! Are you fucking nuts?” He shimmies out of his own jacket and throws it over his partners shoulders.

“J-just always wanted to d-do that, yo. No snow under the p-plate.” 

Inside his clothes are dry and waiting. Less than seven minutes later they are out the door an on their way, the picture of professionalism.

Weather is always interesting after that.

The first time they're in Costa Del Sol there is nothing Rude can do to drag Reno out of the sun, no matter how little sunscreen they have left, or how pink and raw his face and neck and shoulders. He spends every instant not on duty stretched out on the beach. He's turning into all freckles under the burn. Their last night in Sol they finish early, and while they're waiting for the boat Reno is sat on the sand looking out a the dieing sun. Rude sticks two beers in the sand and watches with him. For once, Reno has nothing to say as the sky glows blue, then red, then purple. When the sun is finally gone it isn't cold. But the salt breeze still raises goosebumps on Rude's arms. A good six inches between them, but he can feel the heat radiating from his partner's sunburned skin.

But Rude's favorite is the rain. It rarely rains in Midgar. When it does it comes in violent sudden torrents, flooding the streets of the upper plates and pouring down to the slums in carefully engineered waterfalls. They're walking through a courtyard in the Shinra complex when the sky suddenly opens. There's a department meeting in twenty minutes and they are expected to be presentable. So they both duck into an ornamental gazebo halfway across. Reno has his hands and all but his nose pressed against the glass to get a closer look at this new and fascinating phenomenon. In minutes there's water flowing down the walk in inch high rivulets, invading their shelter and soaking their shoes. The water feels almost warm. Reno stretches a hand out to confirm. Follows it out into the open, splashing. 

It is warm.

The pounding rain plasters his hair and his clothes to his skin and he's laughing and spinning. He reaches out to Rude with delight in his eyes. Draws him out into the rain.


	3. Chapter 3

Rude sat up when he heard the window sliding jerkily open, and the thud of someone dropping through it into the flat. He hadn't really been asleep anymore, but it was his day off, so he had planned on dozing as long as he could get away with. He reached instinctively for the gun in the top drawer of his nightstand, but relaxed when he recognized the familiar footsteps coming down the hall, and what sounded like a bag of something heavy being put down on the kitchen counter. 

Well, he was up now. Might as well commit to it. 

He could hear cupboards opening and closing and a clatter of pots and pans as he rolled out of bed, and padded out of the bedroom in his sweatpants, nearly tripping over the cat that came to twine around his feet. Sure enough, when he got to the kitchen, there was Reno taking groceries out of a bag and putting them on Rude's shelves. 

“Why the window?”

“Morning! I noticed you didn't have any goddamn food around here so I brought you some.” The redhead chirped at him. Rude didn't think it was correct for anyone to be as good at mornings as Reno was. 

“Haven't gone shopping in a while. You know you have a key.”

“I lost it.”

“You lost it.”

“I lost mine too.” He said, as if that somehow made it totally okay.

“Well, you're paying for the new locks and new keys then.”

“Chill out, yo. It's not like they were labeled or anything.”

“You're still replacing them.”

“Fine.” Rude went to the living room to close the window, looking down briefly as he did so. There were ten floors between his living quarters and Reno's, and thirty floors between his window and the ground.

“You could have just knocked.” Reno has finished putting away food, and is rummaging through Rude's rather disorganized kitchen drawers. He finds a large mixing bowl and whisk, looks like he's planning on making pancakes. 

“Thought you'd still be asleep. Not that hard a climb anyway. Fucking security risk if you ask me.” Rude gives an amused grunt. 

“Maybe if any anti-Shinra personnel were spider-freaks like you. Nobody can climb that Reno.”Reno just shrugs, dumps some butter into a cup and throws the cup in the microwave, and starts measuring flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar into the bowl. 

Rude took a seat to watch Reno work. It wasn't uncommon for his partner to let himself into his quarters to cook for him, especially on days off. He didn't seem to think Rude was capable of feeding himself. Which, to be fair, Rude almost never cooked for himself if he could help it. Rude would be lying though, if he said he minded. Free food was free food, and he'd missed home-cooked meals since moving to Midgar. Of course, he did prefer Reno to just use the god damned door, rather than scaling Shinra tower. 

“So, what are we having?”

“Peanut butter and banana pancakes, yo.”

“Sounds good.”


	4. Chapter 4

It had been an interesting day, that much was certain. They'd been given what aught to have been a pretty light detail: escort Scarlet and Heidegger to a public arms demonstration in the morning, stop off at the church to see if Aerith needed anything around lunchtime, because she wasn't fond of this weeks guard, spend the afternoon following up on reports of black market sale of defective materia in under three and six. Easy.

Heideggar of course, had insisted on a small band of troopers along with the two Turks, which had, of course, drawn more than a little attention to the envoy as it traveled across the city. It was a lot harder to keep potential threats away from the executives when they were also fending of cameras and microphones, and a lot harder to fend of cameras and microphones when there was a pack of them chasing the cars down the street. At least the troopers parted the crowd, mostly fans but a few protestors, at the venue itself easily enough. There was a hairy moment leaving when Scarlet tried to take off running after some punk who threw an egg at her. It didn't hit of course. Reno caught it and threw it right back. But Rude still had a job keeping her safely near and in the car while they guy was chased down.

The only thing Aerith had wanted for (besides freedom that was more than illusory, but she'd stopped asking after that long ago) was someone other than Rodney to talk to. She was bundled head to toe in things that look mismatched, and home knitted. He had no idea how she was keeping the flowers alive. Normally Rude would have insisted that they couldn't stay. But today was today, and Reno had gone puppy eyed and Aerith had looked so happy when he conceded. They spent an hour playing marbles on the church floor like children. It's bitterly cold in the church this time of year, the stone floor bit into his knees. Rude had even been convinced to join, while Rodney kept his place near the door looking vaguely annoyed at the sight. 

Under six was where the easy started to break down. They'd been able to confirm that shoddy heal materia was being fobbed off there, and one good singer set them on to the basement in six where a shipment of defective fire and ice were being held. Tainted materia was ineffective at best, and the offensive sorts could be time bombs. They had orders to confirm the location immediately, eliminate anyone in the building, and clean up would be on the way. They left cleanup six bodies and enough unstable materia to boil everything in a two block radius. 

Rude had been the one to suggest they stop by Reno's favorite greasy burger bar on their way back to the office, even offered to buy. Rude liked it too, but wasn't about to admit it. It could be fun to be contrary where Reno was concerned, as long as you knew when to push, and when to give, which Rude did. 

So here they are. And if anyone so much as notices the blood spatter on Reno's shirt or bruise forming on Rude's jaw, they don't mention a thing.

“Sure.” Rude says when Reno asks if he could try some of his food. He holds out his burger to the redhead and isn't exactly surprised when Reno wraps long fingers around his wrist, instead of just taking it out of his hand. Reno's casual about touch like that. 

It's not the touch that surprises him. It's just that Rude used to forget that Turks weren't made of the cold gun-iron and conducting steel they touched the world with. Used to forget the blood in his own veins, on days that were bad enough. But Reno is always warm, and supple, and calloused. Built with just skin, and muscle, and bone like any other person. 

“I ain't complaining or nothing, but why are you being so nice to me today?” He asks around the bite of Rude's burger, looking just a touch suspicious and disbelieving. Then his face creases with horrified comprehension, he swallows and downs half of his water. “Hold on! They're not plannin' on sending me back to Icicle already? Motherfucker! Every time I go to Icicle I get fucking shot!” Rude laughs outright.

“Reno, we get shot everywhere.”

“False! We get shot _at_ everywhere. _I_ always, without fail, get actually shot in Icicle. And no simple grazes or anything either. That shit hurts, yo!”

“Maybe you just get sloppy because you're convinced you'll get shot anyway.”

“Don't give me that. That ain't true and you know it.” Reno is half pouting, half scowling at his water glass now, so Rude gives his hair an affectionate ruffle.

“You're not being sent back to Icicle.”

“Okay. So, why are you being so nice to me?”

“Am I not supposed to be nice to you?”

“ 's just weird. Makes me think there's something going on and I'm missing it.”

“Like what?”

“How should I know? You're the one who ain't in character.”

“February fourth mean anything to you?” 

“Other than today?” Reno contemplates this a moment. Then he leaps up swearing, shoves the rest of his food in his mouth in one go, and makes a grab for his jacket. “My fucking hire date, and I didn't do my fucking eval forms this year. Let's go or Tseng is gonna skin me.” Rude's eaten what he wants, so he just leaves the rest at the counter and follows Reno out to the street. 

It's started to snow, not sticking just yet, but coming down in fat flakes that make lazy patterns as they descend, and stick to his sunglasses. Rude pockets them, and tugs his gloves on, tightens his tie up just a little. Reno always acts like he doesn't notice cold. Doesn't do up his buttons, doesn't mind the snow melting in his hair, as Rude falls into stride next to him he can see the younger Turk shivering, but he doesn't hunch in to himself like the people they pass on the street, or like Rude wants to. 

He waits until they get to the steps of Shinra tower, but Reno doesn't make any amendments or additions to his statement. 

“...Got you something.”

“You got what now?” Reno turns, automatically reaching for the tiny black bag Rude holds out to him, looking puzzled. And Rude's nervous, suddenly, as Reno undoes the tie and tips the contents out into his palm. It isn't...exactly the kind of gift you give a coworker, or a drinking buddy. But he'd run across it in a hunting magazine of all places, and in the weeks that followed hadn't found anything he'd liked better. 

Reno holds up the simple titanium ring, turning it over in his fingers curiously. It's not nearly big enough to hold materia, and there are no runes or glyphs in the surface to enhance abilities. He looks like he's about to say something sarcastic but then-

“Is that blade in there?” He pops the band out from where it's coiled inside the ring, on edge serrated like a saw. Rude nods.

“For zips ties, tape. Supposed to be a shim, but won't work on double locking cuffs.” 

“Holy shit, who cares? This is so fucking cool, Rude!” And Reno's smiling so bright as he puts it back together and slips it on he looks like he might burst. 

Rude is expecting the hug, so he doesn't lose his balance when it's launched at him. He isn't expecting the lips pressed against his, snow cold and soft, and completely chaste, for just an instant.

And then Reno is dashing up the stairs, leaving Rude to wonder if that had actually happened at all. Calling back, “Come, on man, before shift change, yo!”

So Rude climbs up after him, shaking his head.

Happy birthday dumbass.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Violence, sexual themes

Ordinarily, Rude likes Reno's mouth. Kid has a nice collection of smiles, and a sharp tongue. Of course, Reno wouldn't be Reno if his mouth wasn't running.

Right now though, Rude is starting to wish he would shut it, just, for once in his life. 

This isn't a negotiation situation, and these are professionals. They have every intention of killing the captured Turks, when the time comes. And their guard is jumpy. Strung out almost. Like to kill them early just from nerves, and probably wouldn't get much shit for it. Rude is beyond positive that Reno knows this. So he doesn't understand why he won't just shut the fuck up.

“I mean look around you, yo. There's just...well, fucking you in here. An' two of us. I guarantee, your boss ain't payin' you right.” The room is almost silent, but the walls reverberate back every little sound, ten times louder, the guards anxious steps echo, even the rustle of fabric as Rude shifts seems deafening. And that's why he's talking, Rude guesses. To cover any possible sound as he works the ring off his finger, and pops out the blade. Rude doesn't look, doesn't want to draw attention to the small movements, but gods below he doesn't like the way the guards already has his gun out, the way he taps things with it as he paces, the way his finger tenses and relaxes over the trigger.

“Don't matter. I'm armed. You're trussed up just waiting for the call that puts a bullet in you. I'm getting paid to just hang.” And the words may be self assured, but they come out hissing through gridlocked teeth. 

“Well sure, but what if we weren't? What if even one of us got out or something. You been around the black, I can see that. I know you've heard stories, yo. Man, I was you I wouldn't be feeling like sitting pretty just yet.” 

“Oh, but I am. And if you don't want to get beat again, you shut that whole in your pretty-boy face.”

“Aww, you really think I'm pretty? That's sweet of ya an' all, but I got standards-”

The guard whirls on him then, teeth bared, and eye twitching. With a snarl he grabs Reno's hair, yanks his head back at a hard angle, and Rude can hear teeth scraping wetly over metal as the gun is forced into his mouth.

“You shut the fuck up, or I swear to goddess I will blow your brains all over that wall!” He slams back the hammer, the metallic click impossibly clear in the room, now silent except for the incessant drip of the pipes. 

Adrenaline crashes over Rude like a wave and he surges helplessly against his restraints, pulse wild in his ears, his throat. 

Bastard's done it this time. Reno is going to fucking die. He can't stop it. And Rude doesn't want to see, but he won't do the disrespect of looking away.

Reno doesn't flinch though, doesn't even blink. Just makes a low, obscene noise in his throat like he -likes- that. Holds the guards bewildered gaze with half lidded eyes. The guard doesn't pull the trigger. Doesn't know what to do, as the Turk he'd meant to scare into obedience makes a show of working lazily along the barrel, cheeks concave with suction. “S-stop that!”

Rude is still straining against the pipe, thrumming with terror, still expecting the trigger to squeeze, a burst of blood and bone fragment. If he remembers later, the strange shift in his pulse beneath the fear when Reno pulls back briefly to run his tongue flat along the underside of the pistol, he'll write it off as a side effect. 

If Rude had been able to look back at his partners hands, he'd see what the guard doesn't see either: Reno's freed himself, the zip tie cut through, hanging loosely from his wrists while he deftly folds the ring back together.

The guard pulls the gun back and it leaves Reno's mouth with a wet pop, the tip of a tongue flicking out briefly over the end. He un-cocks the hammer and brings the butt of gun down hard across Reno's face. Turns back towards the door, shaken. “Fucking psychopath...” Reno spits blood and oil onto the concrete, expression hard again, and muscles coiled. 

He doesn't have to gesture for Rude to keep silent as he rises, then launches himself at the guards back. The gun clatters to the floor as the mans arm snaps at the elbow, his cry of pain choked off by Reno's forearm jamming into his throat. When the body falls still, he drops it and retrieves the gun, wiping it off on his pants. His face is flushed and pupils wide from the struggle as he drops down next to Rude, getting to work on his ties. 

“You alright there partner?” Reno's familiar, cocky grin slides easily back into place, teeth bloodstained. Must've cut into his cheek when the guy hit him. There's a small, dark smear of blood and gun oil at the corner of his mouth. Rude swallows, and nods his affirmative.


	6. Chapter 6

" S'cold, Rude." 

Day eight in the Icicle area and so far, nobodies been shot. Rude would call this a happy record, if he didn't have just enough negative superstition left around his edges to value untainted luck.

"You ever stop bitching?"

"Ain't bitching, yo. S'just really fucking cold."

And Rude has to give a small acknowledging noise because Reno's right. It is really fucking cold. Thier breath steaming and leaving ice crystals on the linings of their jacket hoods cold. But that's part of the point, isn't it? Cold and clear. Like nights of childhood winters, sneaking down into the kitchen and then out the window to watch for things to wish on. Sometimes for a more exciting life, sometimes just for warmer coats for he and his sister.

It's always winter, this particular point on the globe.

And these aren't quite the stars he looked up at from the farmhouse roof on the outskirts of Kalm, and they aren't Costa stars either. And it's been years and years since Rude made wishes on anything, but he isn't out here to wish.

Next to him, Reno huffs, makes a big deal about shifting around uncomfortably, and closes his eyes. Like he could really sleep out here with this much sky to keep him ill at ease. Like he's not shivering so hard his teeth chatter.

Let him, Rude thinks. Rude doesn't mind the quiet. He doesn't mind either the fact that there is nothing at all stopping Reno from climbing back down to their room, and warmth, but he hasn't.

And that, Rude thinks, is especially good, as the first hints of color and movement touch the darkness. He waits for it to grow. Waits until the stars are riding waves of bright, flickering green.

"Reno."

"What?" Muffled and unstirring.

"Reno."

"What, yo?" And this time at least, he opens his eyes, and while Rude's turned his back to the sky he can feel already the quirk of a grin at his mouth. Anticipating.

Reno sits up abruptly, eyes wide and fixed on the sky and lips parted like he's about to say something, only for once, he can't seem to think of what to say. He makes up for it though, jumping to his feet the next instant, even though his boots skid dangerously on the frost-coated shingles. Even though he has to flail to keep his balance. 

Like the lights are right there and he could touch it if he stood. Like it makes so much difference.

"Fuck me man...those ain't no city lights."

"No real cities in fifty miles of here." Rude agrees, still laid on his back on the inn roof, hands behind his head, relaxed. "At least."

"No shit, yo." Laughing now. Awed. A little like Rude had first been. "Whaddya call this?"

"What's it matter? You couldn't say it right even if I told you." 

"Hey fuck you dude."

"Hmm. Which is it?"

"Which is what?"

"Fuck me, or fuck you?" 

"Fuck - whatever man why didn't you tell me what we were doing out here?"

Rude doesn't bother to answer that. Just grabs the back of Reno's coat and tugs him, yelping, back down. He doesn't have to be gentle about it, Reno won't fall. Not while Rude's got hold of him.


	7. Chapter 7

“Sunscreen.”

“Oh come on. I just did sunscreen, yo.”

“No, what you just did was water. You did sunscreen two hours ago and I could just about hear your pasty ass sizzle when you tried to sneak out without it this morning." Rude beckons with the bottle, the gesture simple and without patience for argument. “Sunscreen.” 

And really, Reno could fight him more, and he expects it. But Reno doesn't this time. He pulls a face and makes noise sure, but he's like to do that about things he's happy about and not sure how to say, from time to time.

Drops himself onto the towel next to Rude, with no regards for the water and water-stuck sand he drops down with him. 

"Sure, whatever. Hey you want a drink, man? Saw that guy with the beer in the ice-bucket making rounds again a second ago.  
"  
"You don't drink beer."

"I do here, yo. I get to buy you one or not?" 

It's not as hot a day as it could be, nice enough that the beach around them is swarming. A hundred different voices laughing or shouting roughing on the news. Surf and sand alike kicked up by a hundred pairs of feet.

A hundred little bits of a hundred little lives.

Rude remembers the heat that had come off him for days, their first time here: Skin so pink that Rude could feel it in moments they happened to be close enough. He remembers also that Reno hadn't complained then. Had been too busy being in love with the sun. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the beer-bucket too, it's carrier already making it's way vaguely towards them.

"Sure. Sunscreen first."

"Well you ain't any fun." Though Reno's tone is light.


End file.
